Waking Up is Hard to Do
by upquark
Summary: Steve wakes before Bucky to find something's come between the,. Or...not quite yet but looks to be heading that direction...


Waking Up is Hard to Do

Yesterday had been a looooooong day. Unintentionally so, but plans don't matter when reality crashed the party. While Bucky wasn't part of the Avengers yet, at least not officially, in regards to tech inculcation and sparring he was an integral part of their sim sessions. It was a nice way for everyone to 'break the ice' so to speak and since the loose conglomeration of Avengers currently on Earth (and participating) were still figuring out what they wanted as mission parameters the reconstituted mayhem artist previously known as Winter was a valuable addition to the fray.

So they had found a nice, quiet setting in Western Mongolia to futz with some new Stark/Wakandian hybrid tech (Sam was over the moon with the additions to Redwing's capabilities: so much so that Tony had threatened to 'take his toys' away if he _wouldn't just shut up already)._ The Falcon had called Tony a selfish asshole and Natasha had idly wondered aloud what that truth had to do with anything. And as Tony wholeheartedly agreed, that just irritated Sam further. The good-natured bickering between the team quick-wits had served for entertainment until they arrived, only to find that a forty-man terrorist cell had **also** decided the vacant terrain would be a great spot to practice chaos.

The reception was understandably chilly; a fact made manifest via several RPGs v. QuinJet.

No contest, but still.

"Well that's pretty fucking rude," said Bucky. "Think we should teach these cretins some manners?"

And so they had.

Buck had enmeshed himself seamlessly into the fighting style of whomever he happened to be closest to, but his personal preference was still to hang back and perform as sniper. He had ample opportunity to do both and after the loose ends were mopped up the atmosphere in the QuinJet on the ride back was jovial and relaxed. For everyone. Which was a really great way to end the day, Steve thought. It was clear that Bucky finally hadn't felt like such an outlier and the team saw him function well with them in real time in a real event. Watching him chatting amicably in Russian with the Scarlet Witch and them both needling Sam because his grasp of the language was rudimentary at best left a warm feeling in Steve's chest. When Tony caught his eye he'd winked lewdly and Steve couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed. This was nice. Everyone together on the same page was nice. He hoped for more nice, more often.

But after cleaning up and debriefing over far too much food Steve and Bucky found themselves tired and opted to stay in their oft-unused Tower suite instead of heading out to their clandestine Brooklyn walk-up. And it was actually kind of pleasant to say goodnight to everyone, knowing they'd see them all for breakfast the next day. Steve had a brief moment of surprise when he heard Bucky start chuckling from their bedroom doorway and went to look over his shoulder. Seems Tony (well, Jarvis) had played host and left a small box of chocolates for Bucky and some Lemonheads for Steve on their pillows and after giving the little packages a good sniff for explosives or other Stark pranks they both enjoyed the treats and the thought behind them. Despite the sugar rush they did fall asleep relatively quickly, contentedly worn from the day.

The calm ended abruptly for Steve scant hours later.

 _'_ _Something's wrong – what?'_ flashed across his brain.

It was exactly the kind of thing (other than his own infrequent nightmares) still that made him erupt instantly into wakefulness: the particular glint of dew a recently absent sound suspended in a spiderweb of still air left.

Holding himself completely still, he listened. Nothing. But it was definitely a _'nothing where there had just been something';_ he could sense the space vacated as clearly as actually seeing a chalk outline on pavement.

And there it was again from beside him; a small, slightly discontented fuss. "Rmph."

Steve carefully let out the breath he'd been holding and cracked his eyelids. He remained motionless, assessing their situation. Barely dawn, the overcast sky was humming with the angled glow of sunrise brooding behind the promise of impending rain. He was flat on his back with Bucky curled into him like an oversize housecat, subjugating his pillow and a long leg and gleaming arm flung over haphazardly. The light cotton bedlinens had tangled around their bodies essentially trapping Steve in an affectionate cocoon with the book he'd fallen asleep reading jammed under his right flank. It was a little uncomfortable, true, but this effortless claim of physicality had been long-fought and hard-won. Steve felt the corners of his mouth tip up thinking about how much time it had taken Buck to relax enough to cuddle when he slept.

His quiet musings were interrupted by another sound and a slight flex of metal fingers on his side.

"Mmft."

Instantly Steve felt himself click into a zone of intense evaluative focus. Like his own, Bucky's night terrors had gradually lessened – both in intensity and occurrence - but they still happened. The experience was never pleasant (for either of them) and Steve felt the old, sour ache in his chest deepen as it did whenever he thought of Bucky being hurt, even in dreams. Perhaps yesterday's battle spat and unfamiliar quarters had flustered him? It would be just like Buck not to say anything if he was uncomfortable, but Steve was irritated at himself that he hadn't noticed anything amiss. He started to breathe slowly and deeply, willing Buck to sense the soothing sound and motion wherever he was and become settled.

Unfortunately no. Another light huff accompanied at tremulous flex of a strong thigh across his own. And then another. Of each.

And suddenly Steve felt a cheek-splitting grin crackle over his face; Bucky wasn't having a bad dream at all. On the contrary, he must be having a very **good** one if the impressively warm heft crowding Steve's left hip was any tell.

He barely resisted the urge to giggle, that becoming even more difficult as somewhere in dreamland Buck's mind interpreted the aborted waves of levity in Steve's body as tension and he responded by growling and curling in tighter. Neither of them slept naked – years' worth of conditioning in awakening to combat were difficult to flout – but it seemed the most insistent part of Bucky had breached his boxers and found a comfortable home against Steve's skin where his own flannel pajama pants had ridden low.

"mmMMmm."

"Bucky." Steve said this softly, not wanting to embarrass him. But Buck was apparently in deep _(hah!)_ wherever he was and frankly, Steve was a little surprised. Even far down in slumber Buck would generally surface immediately to any sound other than the snoring he _(!still!)_ would not admit to and the fact that he didn't made Steve reluctant to disturb him. Instead he brought a hand carefully to rest at the side of Buck's jaw and let his fingers thread through the thick waves. This was another hard-won position of comfort for both of them: Bucky loved to be chastely petted and Steve to do it, but it had taken them both a long time to be easy enough with themselves and each other to really enjoy it.

And apparently even in stimulated sleep Bucky still did. With a happily muffled snuffle he tucked his face tighter into the warm cranny between Steve's neck and collarbone. He was quiet and still afterwards and Steve wondered idly what he'd been dreaming about as he stroked softly through the dark hair. Things were peaceful for so long that Steve nearly fell back under himself save for the jolt when a silky puff of his own name tickled his ear. Then more….

"Stevie, yeah. S'nice...mmmfh."

Steve smiled. He'd never hold Buck accountable for dreams (or whatever fantasies made him feel good), but it was still nice to know he himself was one. The two super-soldiers truly enjoyed this aspect of their relationship but had traveled different paths to this same sweet end: a younger, untarnished Bucky had basked in random physical attention from whomever since he'd not been able to have Steve back then and Steve himself found his affection closely tied to his heart – only Peggy and Bucky had pulled much more than friendliness from him. He winced a little as he thought of Sharon: he'd really tried to move forward like Nat had been egging him on to, but everything about their brief encounter while on the run felt off. The timing, the unexpected familial relationship between her and Peggy, the fact that Bucky and Sam were **watching** them kiss. Especially Bucky. They'd discussed it once, Steve asking what he thought since Bucky had been aware of his own feelings long before Steve had.

"What do **you** think, punk? I thought you were straight so was happy for you, if being with someone was what you wanted. Now the _timing_ seemed a little wonky, but whatever. Anyhow, she seemed great – took a big risk for us in getting our gear. That's brave. Pummeled **me** a little too, after fucking Zemo overwound my springs, right? And I had no claim to you; no say in the matter. Besides your stupid friend was there, and…"

"He's your stupid friend now, too, Buck."

Bucky had chuckled warmly. "Yes, Birdbrain is **now** , but not **then**. Wasn't gonna cry into his shoulder from the backseat."

"Hey, I told you I was sorry about that…"

"Why? Gimme a break; I'm no overly-sensitive kid. Had a lot worse to deal with than being shafted to second-fiddle by a flighty upstart, punk." Both he and Steve had laughed at that; Steve at Bucky's wry expression and Buck at the memories of Sam's quasi-surreptitiously needling antics during that long car ride in 'the fart-laced sardine can' as Falcon had dubbed the little car. Bucky had continued with the patented smart-aleck sparkle of old in his eye, "Besides, you honestly think I wanted Tweety behind me where I couldn't keep a bead on 'im? Come ON, Steve. What kinda sniper you think I am, huh? Internationally incarcerated involuntarily-trained mental mosh pit professional **badass** right here, pal."

Ambling through these thoughts now Steve smiled more over his latent chagrin regarding other minor romantic failures and went back to ruffling Bucky's hair after planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Considering how everything turned out, Sharon had been incredibly understanding on more than a few levels and Steve counted himself damn lucky. They'd become closer, more honest friends actually and Steve knew she was seeing someone now who made her happy. Not that he expected any dinner party invitations anytime soon but considered that particular snafu all's well that ends well enough.

Speaking of, Bucky's sleepy little twitches and imploring huffs seemed to only be increasing and once again, Steve was worried about him being mortified when he awakened. Buck had fished HIM out of a wet dream once during a teenage sleep-over by smacking a throw pillow over his ear before any of their other friends woke and noticed. Steve had been beyond grateful that Bucky kept him from REALLY embarrassing himself _('S'okay, Stevie, s'no big deal…nah, no frets…you weren't_ _that_ _loud – practically snoozin' on my face here. Just thought you were having an asthma attack first – I'm kinda used to sleepin' light near you for that. Said s'okay jerk, shaddup that look on yer mug. G'wan, go down the hall to the john, take care of it then come back to sleep. None-a these idiots'll know')._ And no one had; even Bucky was snoring lightly again by the time he'd returned.

Huh. 'Shared life experience' really WAS an all-inclusive term when it came to them. Even the embarrassing stuff. Like now, sorta. Steve briefly considered whopping Buck with a pillow the same way HE'D been woken way back when but decided that the likely aftermath of dealing with Winter's default conditioning was probably a bad idea for both of them.

But the idea of smacking a jacked-up Bucky awake with a feathery poof – comical even if dangerous – made Steve stifle a few more giggles. The simple fact that he'd never really been a giggler set him off, as well. Yeah, contrary to current popular belief **he** possessed a smart-ass sense of humor, too. He'd always been a little taken aback when friends in this timeline were surprised when he cracked a joke or quipped. He was quieter, yeah, but not a stick-in-the-mud, right? Not all the time, anyway. But having Bucky with him, especially like this had gone a long way to lightening him up. Still, he had never considered himself a fella prone to _giddiness_ per say, but the current situation was tickling his funny bone something fierce.

When a still-slumbering Bucky (Really? C'mon, man) responded by again clutching on to him tighter Steve suddenly found that perhaps his funny bone wasn't the only thing invigorated: Buck's leg had slid completely over both of his and the startle of proximity had made his own dick wake up, start the coffee and seriously ponder joining the conversation already in progress.

Now this tripped a different trigger for Steve. Consent. It should be an issue for anyone but **particularly** someone like Bucky who'd had far too much experience with choices being forcibly removed from him. Even pleasant ones like this. He was awake and aware, but Bucky was not and Steve wasn't having any parts of anything Buck wasn't wholly party to. He worked the book out from under his side, flinching as his skin stuck to the hard cover and tried to extricate himself slowly by sliding away toward the edge of the bed. Unfortunately the sheets had turned psychopathic octopus and his furtive movements just made the arm and leg over his body clamp down tighter.

Which wasn't exactly helpful, as his penis happily decided that golly gee thanks boss, this was indeed a spectacular way to greet the day. With fanfare. A brass band, even. And probably viscous fireworks sooner rather than later. On top of it all Steve belatedly realized he had to pee, too. Badly.

Dammit.

"Hey, c'mon Buck. You up?"

Well that was a stupid thing to say. Of course he was. After all, it was **his** gregarious dick that had crashed their slumber party. And just like that the curtain lifted on the status-quo humor once more.

Steve finally couldn't help himself as the champagne-light giggles bubbling in his chest started to spill over into uncorked sound and full-body twitches of mirth. Bucky's pleasantly insistent huffs and sighs became slightly indignant as his sleeping brain tried to process this new stimuli seeping into his dream.

After a far longer time than Steve would have reasonably expected, Bucky startled awake and twisted to look up at a chuckling Steve with hazy, dream-bleared eyes.

"Steve? The fuck?" His morning voice was pure gravel and the similarity between that and his 'come hither' tone was too tempting for Steve's already precarious equilibrium to balance. So…

"Okay, if you insist. Gotta hit the head first though; your leg has a vice grip on my bladder."

Buck picked his head off Steve's shoulder and blurted, "Huh? What's going on?" His forehead knotted with the telltale crease he got between his brows when he was both perplexed and worried he'd done something terrible.

Aww, no. This had been nice – sweetly weird, but nice and Steve wanted to keep it that way, so he spoke softly and started smoothing Bucky's tangles again.

"You were having a dream, Buck. Woke me up was all."

"Oh." He still looked a little lost, storm sky eyes inclement as if he hadn't quite caught up with himself yet. "A terror? Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry if…"

"No Buck. No." Steve hated that Bucky always felt like he had to apologize for all he'd experienced and how he processed it, especially right this second. But he understood. However…. "Don't think it was that kinda dream, actually." Steve let a playful smirk trickle over his face and pointedly glanced down at where their entwined bodies were clearly experiencing zero angst over the whole situation.

"Oh. OH. I, uh…"

"Yeah, _'you, uh'_ and now you've got _'me, uh'_ too, so….whatever shall we do about all this, d'ya think?"

Bucky blinked rapidly a few times and raised a sleep-mussed eyebrow. Steve's sappy heart practically trilled to see that devilish quirk he so enjoyed start to curl within the corners of his smile. But Buck was still a little fuzzy and the quizzical look on his sweet face just made Steve start giggling all over again. Even more so at the articulate, "Um?" in response.

"I got an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you tell me about that dream you were having? Sure sounded nice…"

"Mmm…" Bucky's smile turned stealthy. "Maybe I should…could use a little help to jog my memory though."

"What kind of help did you have in mind?" Steve asked as his earlier smirk threw off its training wheels, blazed through puberty and graduated to a nice 401K and weekend rides on a Harley.

"Visual aids, maybe." Bucky answered with a snarky look of his own as silver fingers followed his line of sight down Steve's muscle-rumpled belly.

"Sounds great." Steve was barely able to get these two words out coherently before Bucky's metal hand was politely soothing the exasperated dick waiting impatiently under his pajamas. The accompanying dirty snicker didn't help much.

"Bet it feels better."

Steve scrabbled his words and wits about himself _with a quickness_. "Of course it does, jerk. Here, lemme show you." And with that Steve shifted slightly and let his own hand slide down between them. Since Bucky's hard-on already had the wherewithal to nudge out of its cotton front door and say hi the overall response was a little more – overt.

Unfortunately the resulting full-body press and moan, while **delicious** wasn't quite distracting enough to silence the objections from Steve's bladder.

"Bucky?"

"mmMMMmm. Now this…this is way better than any dream. Wan' the real thing right here with me every time, darlin'."

Steve was chuffed at hearing endearments in Brooklynese, but planted a splayed hand on Bucky's firm chest as he kicked the sheets off. "I hear you, I do…but Buck, I have GOT to pee."

Furrowing his brow in a salty tease, Buck simply looked over at the almost-to-scale Empire State Building replica under Steve's flannels and snarked, "Good luck with **that** , pal."

"Shut up." Steve said eloquently.

Bucky just rolled his eyes at the caliber of Steve's witty repartee and sassed, "You'll have to make me when you come back. Can think of a few ways."

Deliberately turning his back and trailing Bucky's filthy chuckles in his wake, Steve threw an admonishing glare at the cheerful tent twitching in his pants at those naughty words and stalked over to their ensuite, yawning the whole way. After some minor redirection, deep breaths and eye rolling (women didn't know how difficult it was to manage misbehaving plumbing sometimes), Steve sighed in relief. Then figured since he was already in here some toothbrushing would be nice as well. The quirked smile on the side of his mouth as he thought of Bucky waiting for him **like that** made it a little difficult to keep all the minty foam where it should be but hey, having a freshly-washed face was an amicable way to kiss someone good-morning, too. Since he was drying said face in one of their ridiculously smotherable 21st century towels he didn't see Bucky sneak in behind him. The crack of a vibranium hand on his ass made him yelp and drop the soft cloth in the sink.

"BUCKY. What the HELL?"

Buck followed up the smack on the rear with a gentle shove at the small of his back and sent Steve staggering out the door. "You were taking too long. Thought I'd do some recon and save you. Or see if you needed help with, y'know…" The appreciative look he leveled at the front of Steve's jammies simply reminded his dick that intermission was over. Steve shook his head as Bucky's eyebrows shot up just as fast.

"Wow. Hair-trigger much?"

"Huh. I'll show YOU 'trigger', jerk. So shut up."

"That doesn't even make any sense, punk."

"Yeah, well…shut up anyhow."

"Sure. Like I said, you take yourself a lil' minute and figure out how you're gonna make me, doll." Bucky said this sweetly and then shut the door right in his face. Steve pouted by kicking it but when the only response was a victorious cackle echoing off the tiles he gave up and went to flop back down in the still-warm sheets. He turned his head at the first hard spats of rain hitting the huge windows and lost himself in the roll of richly-textured sound, the sleep-warmed scent of Buck's shampoo on his pillow and honeyed thoughts he'd had earlier.

Of course his distraction just let Bucky creep up on him again and Steve squeaked when sharp square teeth nipped the toes hanging off the foot of their bed. He popped up faster than a jack-in-the-box and spluttered at the giggling super soldier who was hands-and-knees gloating down on their throw rug.

If only everyone could see him like this: a formidable nightmare clad in KillFace character boxers laughing his fine ass off. Well, maybe not. Steve did want to maintain a certain decorum in public image, and no one would believe him without pics anyway. Some redress clearly needed, though.

" **BUCKY!** What the ever-loving f-"

Buck rose to sit on the bed and push Steve back on the pillows. "Ah, ah ah…none of that now. Bad enough one of us has a mouth like a drunken sailor. You're too good for that, Stevie."

"Oh hush. I jus' generally choose not to talk salt. Doesn't make me soft. M'not no candy-ass."

"Of course not." Bucky interrupted, dropping the 'old neighborhood' accent they both slipped into when really comfortable. Even decades away from the frail physicality he'd been plagued with, Steve was still highly sensitized to any attribution of weakness. The underlying onus of which Bucky understood, but still thought was a little stupid since Steve had always been one of the strongest people he knew then and now. And considering the company they'd kept, that was really saying something. His expression fell solemn here as he crawled up to lay alongside Steve once more. "You're just good. **Too** good for me, I think."

"Shut up, Bucky." Okay, the amount of times he'd said that this morning was bordering on the ridiculous, but Steve was at a loss here.

"Oh don't worry buddy, not getting rid of me that easy. **I'm** not good. Gonna keep what I want even if I don't deserve it. You." Steve's own eyes prickled as he watched love warm Bucky's. His friend was propped on one elbow and had started tracing gentle arcs over his eyebrows with a fearfully tender expression as he observed his own movements. "I don't deserve you, but I don't care. Gonna keep you forever anyways Rogers, whaddya think of that?"

Steve was inordinately pleased that he could successfully rasp, _"think you better quit yappin' an' kiss me already, s'what I think,"_ over the lump in his throat.

"For my best guy – for you - I can do that. I can do anything."

Before Steve could say anything else, Buck had leaned over and planted a soft kiss full on his mouth, then pulled back. Barely letting him catch a startled breath before he licked in gently, Bucky skimmed Steve's own tongue _(hey, he'd scoured out morning breath, too!)_ before running a cool finger under his chin to tilt in just a little more insistently. The kiss managed to hum with sweetness and longing just as much as it promised wicked delight and along with the conversation it twisted Steve up even more than their sheets were.

He was only half-kidding when he said, "Gonna break my heart with yourself, Buck."

Bucky's tone was equally teasing but the words were not as he replied, "Never on purpose. And I'll always be around to put it back together."

"You better."

"Speaking of better…" now a little predatory lift crept back into the corner of Bucky's mouth "…how 'bout you tell me how **this** feels…." His words trailed off as his lips did, grazing down the line of Steve's neck to find That Spot under Steve's jaw.

"…ooOOh…mmf!"

"Don't think those are considered words by anyone's measure, Steven."

"Shut up, Bucky." Steve was pleased that indeed, this old chestnut **did** sound somewhat recognizable despite the gasp it sailed out of his face on.

"All right then. Since you seem to be stuck on repeat I'll just go an' shut myself up, how 'bout that?"

Before Steve could say anything else trite or otherwise, Bucky and his smirk had slid down his body and performed a spectacular magic trick. A disappearing act involving Steve's pajama bottoms that Houdini himself would have been proud of. Steve wasn't entirely sure if he should be impressed by Bucky's dexterity in taming recalcitrant cotton or the fact that it happened so damn fast.

Just as Bucky got his mouth on him, Steve's brain decided on the latter. Mere nanoseconds before his higher-reasoning shorted out.

"Bucky! Oh my god…"

Steve felt a rough poke in his ribs and yelped. He tucked his chin into his chest and peered down his body inquiringly at Bucky's mock glare.

"Can't talk with my mouth full, Steve. S'rude. So I can either 'shut up' like you've been tellin' me or we can do something else."

"No, no…just shut up. I want you to shut up. Dyin' for it. Shut up please. Like right now, real deep too and maybe do that crazy thing with your tongue, okay? So please? **Please** shut up all over me, Buck."

There was a brief pause.

Then they both started absolutely cracking up. Wailing with the sort of silly giggles that just get worse the more you try to hold them in. By the time they were done Steve's stomach was in spasms and Bucky was scrubbing tears of laughter off his face with the discarded pajamas.

"You do realize I'll prolly drop to my knees every time you say that to me from now on. Could make the day job a little…unprofessional. Uncomfortable for everyone – except maybe Deadpool. Wade seems like he'd be pretty unfazed by much. Well…maybe 'pretty' isn't a good word to use in conjunction with Wade, but you know what I mean."

Another brief pause as they stared blankly at each other.

Then another round of hysterical laughter that pulled noises out of them both that one would be hard-pressed to find even at a zoo full of Creutzfeldt-Jakob animals fed with 'shrooms and Pixie Stiks. The whole thing was so **stupid** , _but yet…such a gift_ that they could defy death one day and share simple joy the next. Gasping helplessly for air Steve wiped his eyes and looked over at where Bucky was still laughing; head thrown back, one hand to his chest and the other resting on Steve's hip.

He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

And he was so very grateful for it. For him. The easy happiness of them together like this after... Well, after absolutely everything. He couldn't contain it and never wanted to have to again.

"I love you, Buck."

He watched as Bucky cocked his head to one side and got himself under control long enough to bathe him in radiance purer than any Infinity Stone.

"I know. Me too. Or is that another euphemism?"

Steve beamed sunshine right back at him. "Nah."

"Wan' me to 'shut up' then, Steve?"

Oh god yes. YES. But he did manage to say, "Yeah. But only if you want to."

"I always want to, Steve. Always have. Lay back, baby. Let me enjoy you."

Closing his eyes with a sigh Steve felt Bucky shift to nestle between his legs. Warm breath ghosted over the tip of the erection that even their bouts of giddiness hadn't flagged and the moan that escaped him was nearly eclipsed by a low chuckle as Bucky swallowed him down.

Steve drifted for a while after that, floating unmoored in the sounds of the rain and the waves of sensation. Bucky's mouth, like every other part of him, was a thing of beauty.

And god, how he could use it.

Plush lips that cajoled and stoked by turns. A tongue that always felt far hotter than it should and curled…and licked…and coddled…and in unison, suckled…and when Steve started to rear up, wantonly brazen under that onslaught, the miracle that was Bucky's throat opened to welcome him in.

Oh god, Steve was almost too lost to realize exactly when Buck had started to roll his knuckles firmly against the silky skin behind his balls. But he felt the orgasm that had been building pulled and stretched like taffy deep in his belly. Strung out between the two points of sensation he mirrored it by throwing his arms wide, clutching the sheets to anchor himself – somehow – against the storm of coalescence coming.

And then it rolled over him, electricity streaking down his spine and erupting into the warm depths of Bucky's mouth – starbursts of wet light crackling to ecstatic trills of aftershocks as he was milked completely.

Steve was gleefully jettisoned from reality and the only way he knew he'd been crying out was because his throat was raw and dry when he tried to swallow. He had no idea what sort of sounds he'd been making, waylaid as he was until Bucky licked a long wet swath along the crease of his thigh and rasped some words of his own as he leaned up.

 _'…_ _say my name, say it again like you were, oh god so close steve, so hard for you, so ready, please baby, say it, say my name, i'm yours, call me, call me home stevie, please, gotta come, m'so hard, oh it hurts me, hurts so-ohh, stevie please, say my name…'_

With each word Bucky was rutting desperately into the slick track he'd mouthed and Steve gripped an arm along his straining back and fisted a hand through his hair. He kept his mouth on Bucky's ear whispering his name like a benediction, like a prayer, like a wish, like his very heart and soul spoken through the only word that had ever bitten into his marrow like this and made a home within him.

Like the man himself had.

And finally, finally Steve felt him begin to break, to arch and roar and **still** Steve kept him clenched close _(never let you go buck, not ever, not_ _ever_ _again)_ , even swept long legs hard around his and the additional pressure sent Bucky shuddering over the edge.

He finally collapsed against Steve, burrowing in his neck, face in that safe space between his ear and collarbone. Steve cradled him close as he came down, mirroring his lunges gently, taking over and guiding him in for a safe landing. When he felt Bucky's breathing start to ease he rolled them to one side and kissed the sooted copper strands free from his eyes and smoothed some thick waves behind his ear. He kept up his gruff whispers and peppered his words with little kisses on Bucky's eyelashes and cheeks.

"Love you Bucky, so much. I'm so lucky. All mine, love you. Oh, Buck."

"Mmphf."

And that was how this whole thing started, hadn't it? Steve smiled and licked the tip of Bucky's nose.

"Pfft. Ew. You can really do a number on a mood, punk." Bucky turned slightly and rubbed his face on Steve's hair.

"Thanks, jerk. I'm sure that really helps the whole cowlick situation."

"Please, Rogers. You know damn well nothing could help your cowlick situation."

"Could shave it?"

A fierce growl. "Don't you **dare**. S'beautiful."

"Mm. 'Kay."

"Wow, you're easy."

"Just with you."

And with that they both pulled back slightly, still entwined but just enough to explore the worlds waiting behind the dual shades of shining blue without going crossed-eyed. And smiled a little at each other, too. Until Steve's stomach growled.

"Nice. Classy way to finish up. Guess you're hungry, huh?"

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

"Naw. Ate already. Protein shake, doll."

And with that, Steve felt fully justified in reaching behind him and gathering weaponry to wallop Bucky with fluff as he'd wanted to do earlier.

Pillow warfare was very satisfying. Not as much as the orgasms, but still.

After a few minutes Steve laid off just to enjoy how pink Bucky's cheeks were and how the shine in his eyes laced his soul while brilliant peals of laughter shook their borrowed walls. Yeah, the whole thing was very satisfying indeed and Steve never wanted to miss a minute of it.

He'd probably have to figure out a way to slip Bucky that little question sooner rather than later: after all, the world was a strange place and one never knew what could happen. But for now…his fingers clenched tighter on cushy down in response to a daring, "That all you got?"

Big words for a guy with no pillow and a sticky dick.

"Nope. Not no way, not no how. Boy do I got a lot waiting for you. Better buckle up, jerk."

"All in, punk."

Well, good.


End file.
